Pupil-less brown eyes opened lethargically to blank white walls and the smell of antiseptic. They roved about the sterile room and fell upon a short man with dull brown hair, thick eyebrows, and a neatly trimmed goatee. Sharp black eyes like coal fixed upon him over a bulbous, freckled nose. "You're finally awake, eh?" The man's voice was a gravelly rasp, like rocks tumbling over each other in an avalanche.
He tried to ask who the man was, but his voice was in even worse condition than his associate's, escaping his mouth in a wheeze. The short man tilted his head with detached curiosity. "Ah, you're recovering from some significant changes, I wouldn't try to talk. I'll make this as short and simple as possible.
"I'm the Tsuchikage. We found you way out in the country following a cataclysmic event; out of convenience, you were selected to contain a renegade Bijū, and brought here for recovery."
He turned away from the bed and crossed his hands behind his back; he began moving around the bed, and brown eyes widened with shock as they took in the sight of the older man floating a foot off the floor. "Your appearance makes it obvious that you're not from Iwa, but your history doesn't interest me; your future does.
"You see, the Bijū are great and terrible weapons. And while you were selected by convenience, I place far more value on loyalty." Coal-colored eyes turned to him, depths void of feeling. "Pledge your fealty to me, and accept the life I can give you, or refuse, and we'll extract the demon and put it into a more willing subject. Your life will be forfeit."
There didn't even seem to be an option, but whatever the Tsuchikage was offering couldn't be as bad as the lightless pit he'd come from. He gave a slow, continued nod, so his acceptance couldn't be confused for anything else. The old man smiled at him, and he was reminded uncomfortably of the way his captors would look at him: curious, cold, and devoid of cheer. "Smart boy.
"Welcome to Iwagakure…Han."
-l-l-l-
Utakata resisted the urge to fidget under Tsunade's unflinching stare. Her hands were laced beneath her chin, mouth pursed in a thin line, and honey-colored eyes seemed to be staring through him; everything about her expression made him feel like he was being subjected to a crushing pressure, and it was only a matter of time until he succumbed. He could see, not for the first time, why she had been selected to be the Hokage, her piercing look shrewd and imposing.
He was reminded briefly of how Kisame looked – threatening, possessed of a glimmer of madness and intense bloodlust – but then again, the swordsman wasn't meant to be a leader. They both just happened to…carry themselves with a presence that captured attention.
And Utakata was used to obeying authority.
"I'm sorry about—"
"I'm not interested in your platitudes," Tsunade interrupted. "I get enough meaningless political niceties spoon-fed to me throughout the day, I would prefer not to hear them in my own home. Especially since this isn't the first occurrence." Utakata remained silent at the rebuke, mentally conceding that she had a point. "I am, however, interested in understanding this seemingly repeated need of yours – and your compatriots – to undermine the rules I set in place for you."
"I…understand your frustration," came the slow response, "and I would offer another apology if you were open to accepting it. But I can't stress enough the urgency of this latest…indiscretion. We had only recently escaped an encounter with Akatsuki, and it came to our attention that Gaara had likely been kidnapped, so you can understand our concern."
"Yes, I can fathom the scenario which led to our current situation," Tsunade retorted with exaggerated sarcasm. "And in many ways, your actions could be considered commendable. I can't say that I'm overly familiar with the way Kirigakure inspires its shinobi, at least in modern times, but what you did was in line with our belief in the Will of Fire, and I would be remiss as the Hokage to not recognize that." Her hands moved away from her face, one accusatorial finger stabbing towards him from across the table. "However, you are no Konoha-nin, and your actions put my shinobi in harm's way."
"…I dissuaded Naruto from coming," he replied weakly.
"Again, commendable. And inarguably appreciated. But you obviously underestimate the impact you've had on Naruto, which, while admirable to some degree, also makes him a huge pain in the ass. I don't think you appreciate how unprecedented your little group is, nor the precautions that need to be taken when dealing with anything surrounding any one of you." She sighed, rubbing at her temples as if trying to alleviate the headache this very conversation was bringing on. "The resources we're utilizing to track Akatsuki's movements would shock you; that we're still recovering from the Suna/Oto invasion while maintaining normal village functions and responsibilities means that devoting resources – even if they are mostly Genin, albeit highly skilled ones – to extraneous tasks is unnecessarily burdensome."
"…I understand. And you're right. Your hospitality has been more than gracious. I'll try to be more considerate moving forward." There was a moment of silence as he waited for the blonde to acknowledge his concession, but when nothing was forthcoming, he hedged, "If I may ask, why are you so…forgiving? There are many village leaders who would not abide by such insubordination, especially from someone who, as you note, has no fealty to you."
Tsunade drummed her fingers against the tabletop, head resting in the palm of her other hand. She almost appeared bored with the conversation. "Decades ago," she began, "when the Five Great Shinobi Nations were young, my grandfather, the Shodai, attempted to broker peace with the other Kage by exchanging the Bijū under his control for non-aggression treaties. The Sanbi, Yonbi, and Hachibi were all given away as a show of good faith by Konoha.
"My granduncle, who was present at the Kage Summit, was more skeptical than my grandfather. His chronicles indicate that, while he believed his brother naïve, he also could not usurp his authority; in the event the treaties did not work, and with no option but to deal with the repercussions of the Shodai's decision, his hope was that the distribution of the Bijū would provide a power balance among the villages that would create a cold-war atmosphere to stave off future conflict.
"As time has shown, neither of those things came to pass." Tsunade's voice was wry. "The major villages engaged in endless conflict, each of them utilizing their new weapons wrapped in human form."
"Jinchūriki," Utakata breathed. He'd never heard this story before, likely because Saiken had been native to the Hidden Mist prior to his capture and sealing. "But Konoha had its own Jinchūriki with the Kyūbi, did it not?"
"Created only to prevent further assault from one of our own," Tsunade replied. "The first Jinchūriki, my grandmother, was not one to support unnecessary conflict. While Konoha has her own shadowed past, she was not the aggressor in the wars that followed. Nor did Konoha seek the remaining Bijū, as the other villages did."
"…Fair enough," the Kiri-nin granted. "But what does any of that have to do with—"
"I'm providing context," interrupted the Hokage waspishly. "My point is that the old way of doing things has not panned out the way people have intended. The Bijū – and by extension, the Jinchūriki – are powerful chess pieces that have been utilized as instruments of war for nearly a century despite the wishes of my grandfather and granduncle. Removing those pieces from the board may reestablish equilibrium across the Elemental Nations."
"Assuming the other villages don't resent your hoarding of the Bijū, in which case you could be fostering an environment in which the other nations ally against you out of resentment or fear."
"Which is why I have not courted any of you to join Konoha," Tsunade pointed out, "in addition to my continued requests for your discretion."
"Ah…" Now knowing her intentions, he felt properly chastised and even more chagrined. "You're quite unique, Hokage-dono. I don't think any other leader would approach this situation the way you have."
"Those who seek power most often have ill intentions and are further corrupted by it." Her chair scraped against the floor as she pushed away from the table and stood up. "I only seek to prevent bloodshed and preserve the lives of my shinobi as much as possible. That is the credo of an iryo-nin. Now, if you'll come with me…"
Utakata rose slowly at her request, stiff despite the patch job she'd performed on him upon his arrival. "Not to be contrary, but where are we going? And why do you want me to join you?"
"To see your friend. And obviously because the other Jinchūriki see you as their leader." She led him to a different room within the Senju compound, where Gaara's body was lying prone beneath a pristine white sheet. Sitting on the next bed was an exhausted Fū, whose head of mint green hair kept falling onto Naruto's shoulder before shooting upright; the blond's fingers were twiddling in his lap, one leg bouncing in a display of nerves. Tsunade shot the pair a scrutinizing side-eye that then floated towards the room's corner, where Utakata noticed Jiraiya was reclining, arms crossed over his broad chest. The Hokage said nothing, instead moving over to Gaara's side and running green-glowing hands over his form. "He's stable," she announced, and Naruto let out a breath that sounded like he was holding back several questions. "Jiraiya, you reapplied the seal?"
"You betcha, hime."
"No…" croaked a familiar rasp. All eyes flickered to Gaara, whose pupil-less teal eyes were open but hooded. "I have…an arrangement…"
"Explain," Tsunade demanded, at the same time Jiraiya cocked an eyebrow and asked, "An arrangement?"
Gaara's head moved in a slow bob. His normal deliberateness seemed more like an intense lethargy. "With…" he frowned, eyes rolling around in search of a descriptor, "…Shukaku."
"Elaborate further."
"We agreed to…start anew," came the slow response. "Control for…freedom. Or…a facsimile of it."
"You…you made contact with Shukaku and struck an accord with him?" Utakata sounded stunned.
Naruto cheered and pumped a fist into the air. "Hey, way to go, Gaara! If only the bastard fox wanted to play nice…"
"That sounds incredibly dangerous," Tsunade noted flatly, "especially considering how untested this is."
"Ah, Hokage-dono," Utakata interjected. "During our earlier conversation, you mentioned that the actions of our predecessors had not worked out as intended. My experience is that treating the Bijū as our enemies has had similar results. If you want to change the outcome, then a different approach is required."
"And your suggested alternative approach is to allow an unstable Jinchūriki unfettered access to a demonic entity?" Tsunade retorted wryly. "You understand my skepticism."
"In fairness, hime, we were attempting the same thing with Naruto not too long ago," Jiraiya said. "Don't you think we should treat the kids the same if the opportunity arises?"
"I'll remind you that Naruto is a shinobi of Konoha and thus, despite my misgivings in this particular vein, someone whose growth we should be fostering." Her gaze flickered around the round, and Utakata felt as if her expression was saying 'unlike everyone else here'. Jiraiya appeared unaffected by her tone, and she asked, "So you'll have a strategy for if he loses control and summons the Ichibi?"
"I've restrained him previously, so I don't see that being a problem."
"We can help, too," Utakata added. Naruto was vigorously nodding his agreement in the background.
Tsunade rolled her eyes. "How reassuring. Fine." She pointed at the Kiri-nin. "You have a point, which is really just because it's my point; society cannot improve if those leading it are unwilling to change. Jiraiya?"
The white-haired man stepped up to the bed, fingers lighting up with blue chakra. "Ready, kid? The seal hasn't been on for too long, so hopefully this shouldn't be too painful."
Gaara nodded, body tensing. Jiraiya lowered his hand to the boy's stomach, the Five Elements Unseal eating through the Gogyō Fūin. The redhead's normally bland expression contorted with pain, but only the mildest of grunts slipped through his lips. "How do you feel?" Tsunade asked.
"Fine." He tilted his head, as if listening to something no one else could hear. "I am sorry, it was not intentional, and I… Yes, I have explained our arrangement. It will not happen again. …Agreed." Teal eyes flitted from Jiraiya to Tsunade. "Shukaku is…annoyed, but willing to uphold our previous agreement in light of your…" he looked thoughtful, "interference."
"Wonderful." Sarcasm dripped from Tsunade like the fluids from Gaara's IV. "Since I am apparently running a bed and breakfast, is there any other service I can provide?"
"I would like to speak to Inoichi."
"…I'll get right on that. Jiraiya, they're your headache now. Try not to get maimed too badly." Tsunade left the medical bay, rubbing her temples as she stepped through the doorway and left the group behind. A deep voice uttering her name caused her to stop and turn, one eyebrow arched. "Yes?" she drawled.
Han's armor clinked softly as he pushed off the wall he was reclining against. "You seem to be handing out favors. I have my own."
Honey eyes narrowed. "Exactly how long have you been eavesdropping?"
"You're sympathetic to the plight of the Jinchūriki and seek an alternative path to world peace." The last two words came out as a scoff. "It's a unique, if foolish, endeavor from one in your position. But assuming it's genuine – which your actions with the Suna-nin suggest – then you should be willing to grant my request."
"Taking the hard approach when asking a favor; such a novel attitude for an Iwa-nin," Tsunade noted dryly, ignoring the way Han's brown eyes narrowed with annoyance. "But let's assume that I'm in a gracious mood. What, pray tell, is your request?"
"I need a reprieve from here."
"Ah, yes, you must be stressed living in such squalor."
"Your sarcasm is misdirected, since I've been your most optimal guest to date," Han snarked back, "and I am not asking for anything unreasonable. I do not enjoy having my movements restricted, and this place, as gracious as your hospitality has been to date, is nothing more than an open cage."
Tsunade glanced around, as if searching for the environment Han was describing. "Of course," she deadpanned.
"I don't expect you to understand," the Iwa-nin retorted. "Granddaughter of Konoha's founder, the Shodai Hokage…born in privilege and subservient to no one. I have spent my life imprisoned by your teammate—"
"Former teammate," Tsunade corrected icily.
"—or at the beck and call of the decrepit floating dwarf that calls himself Tsuchikage," Han continued, deep voice rising slightly to drown out the blonde. "Raised by foreigners, only allowed to roam Iwa with guards, trusted to protect the village but not allowed to explore it. And when I was finally allowed to leave, when I had garnered enough trust to follow in Rōshi's esteemed footsteps, I still required accompaniment."
He paused to take a breath, realizing he'd become incensed. Losing his temper at Tsunade, while cathartic in a way, would not help his cause. To her credit, the Hokage remained stone-faced, weathering his tirade with remarkable aplomb. The Iwa-nin picked up his train of thought, voice level once more. "To my point…you seem willing to foster new and unusual connections. Those who would seek to understand rather than abuse the symbiosis of the Bijū and their hosts are beyond rare.
"The Gobi, much like myself, is a creature who enjoys freedom. And while your accommodations are appreciated, I have been remarkably patient with the present situation and my…congenial captivity, especially given how you initially imprisoned me. I wish to run. To escape this open-air prison you call a home, if only for a short while."
"…All of that," Tsunade slowly stated, "just to request a walk? You talk as much as that old windbag, that's for sure."
"To convince you to allow me an excursion," he reiterated, "yes. I would hate to inconvenience you," he added sarcastically. Then, tone neutral again: "I do not believe my request unreasonable."
They stared at each other for a long minute, until finally, Tsunade called out, "Jiraiya."
The white-haired man stepped into sight from the doorway she'd only recently exited, toothy grin in place. "Yes, hime?"
"Take our friend here to Training Area Forty-Four. Let him stretch his legs as reward for his…good behavior," she smirked.
Han's scowl was hidden by his armor, but he inclined his head appreciatively all the same.
-l-l-l-
Training Area Forty-Four, he discovered, was a truly enormous forest completely separate from the rest of the Land of Fire's impressive foliage. The trees were equally tall and imposing, but from where he stood beside Jiraiya, the canopy was far denser, offering no clear view of the sky, and the trunks were several times his own impressive height. No noise made its way to his ears.
"Well, here we are," Jiraiya announced, attempting to sound cheery. "Welcome to the Forest of Death."
"Is this not Training Area Forty-Four?"
"One and the same, big guy. It's just a cute nickname this place has been given over the years. Who knows why?" he added lightly, sounding too innocent.
Han spared the white-haired man a skeptical side-eye. "…Indeed."
Jiraiya slapped the larger man on the back, creating a discordant sound of armor clanking against each other. He wore a wide grin that was starting to remind the Iwa-nin of Deidara when he got a little too devil-may-care. "Well, I'll leave you to it then."
"You're not going to stay?"
Jiraiya arched an eyebrow. "I was under the impression you wanted to be left alone."
"Yes, but…I didn't expect I'd get it."
The white-haired man shrugged. "Tsunade's a pretty terrible bluffer, and not given to saying what she doesn't mean. Besides, there's not much damage you can do in there," he added, jerking a thumb at the trees. "Everyone deserves a break once in a while."
With that, Han watched the Sannin's broad back disappear down the path he'd been led, and when it became apparent that he wasn't going to return, the Jinchūriki turned and walked into the so-called Forest of Death.
As the darkness closed in around him and the chirping of insects and skittering of animals started to become apparent, Han felt a rigid tension in his shoulders start to release. He couldn't say that the atmosphere was familiar – the Land of Earth was a notorious wasteland of rock and dirt, where only the hardiest shrubs could (naturally) survive – but it was clear that this place was void of others.
He inhaled deeply, the earthy scent of the woods providing a sense of comfort. Then, with a previously unknown peace, he took off into the forest at a run.
Greens and browns zipped past as his run turned into a sprint, wind whistling through his armor and sending the individual pieces clattering together. It added to the white noise of the native fauna, and Han made an immediate right turn when a tiger jumped out at him from the underbrush, fangs bared. He snorted at the pathetic ambush attempt, grinning with exhilaration.
A deep bark of amusement built into a rolling laugh; in the quiet expanse, the sound reverberated like the clinking of his armor. Glowing eyes peered out from the darkness at him, narrowed and feral, but they passed in a blur. A massive bear, easily twice his size, trundled out of the brush and reared up on its hind legs to roar at him. In response, Han lowered his head and charged the creature, steam spilling from his armor to propel him forward faster.
Claws raked against his armor as he made contact, crashing into the bear's belly with the force of a train and slamming it against a tree trunk. Its roar was cut short, and Han backed away to continue his run unhindered.
Was that necessary?
Han's brows furrowed with annoyance at the voice. Its timbre was almost androgynous, though the nagging subtext of a disappointed parent had always caused the Iwa-nin to infer it as feminine. "It attacked me first," he replied with a defensive bite to his tone. "Can you not just enjoy the moment?"
The atmosphere is tranquil, yes, but the point remains—
"That you're irksome, I'm aware. Your proclivities are nothing new."
Yours neither. And yet you continue to engage in such barbarism.
"Conflict is unavoidable, especially with my goal."
"Oh? And what would that be?"
Han looked up at the new voice, a feminine purr emanating from high above. The woman wore a tan overcoat open over a mesh bodysuit that went to just above her knees, shin guards protecting the rest of her legs; a brown apron-skirt provided a semblance of modesty. It was hard to tell in the dim light of the forest, but she appeared to have dark hair – maybe black, or perhaps a deep blue or purple – and was chewing on a senbon. "Nothing you would be interested in," he called back. "I have permission from your Hokage to be here."
"Heh, nice try. Since when were we friendly with Iwa?"
"That is fair," Han acquiesced, attempting to make his deep voice conciliatory rather than annoyed, "but I assure you, I have no ill intentions."
"You'll forgive me for not trusting your word!" She flipped through seals and spit out a massive gout of flames. "Katon: Ryūka no Jutsu!"
Steam whistled from his armor and formed a barrier between him and the Dragon Fire Technique. Do you see what passivity accomplishes? Nothing.
And so you propose killing this woman? Imagine how well that will play for your diplomatic efforts.
He scowled, unwilling to verbally concede that the Gobi had a point; he couldn't attack this woman and expect that there wouldn't be repercussions.
The woman burst through his steam, a palm strike aimed at his chin, and the Iwa-nin tilted his head to avoid the attack. There was a clang of metal as she jammed a kunai into his stomach, the tip sticking between the gaps in his armor. Tenacious, he mused, gripping her by the arm and throwing her behind him.
Snakes shot out of the sleeve of her overcoat and wrapped around his own limb, creating a flexible fulcrum that allowed her to arc around his back and slam both feet into his head. The force sent the Jinchūriki sprawling to the ground, kasa dislodged and kunoichi straddling his lap. She shoved senbon through the chinks in his armor, piercing muscles and causing the large man to spasm with discomfort. Up close, he could now see her hair was a dusky violet and her eyes were a mirror of his own, pupil-less and brown. Her pink tongue swept along her upper lip in a hungry gesture that tickled a long-buried memory. "Gotcha."
"Hardly," Han retorted, and steam erupted from his body, blasting the woman airborne. He rolled over and rose to his feet while the Leaf kunoichi recovered, observing him from a distance. His kasa was only a few feet away; he spared a glance at it, then returned his gaze to his adversary, brown eyes narrowing with anger.
Do not lose focus.
"Shut up," he growled. He wouldn't kill her, but it would likely be a close thing if he had his way. Water vapor billowed from the furnace on his back, cloaking the area in thick, white smoke.
"Ooo, neat trick." Her voice came from a distance, distorted by the chakra-laden steam, but she wasn't within it or he'd be able to sense her. That she could disguise where she was speaking from was a credit to her skill. He kept his gaze tilted skyward, waiting for an assault from the one place he didn't have covered.
The ground beneath him rumbled, and Han looked down in time to see the jaws of a massive snake open beneath him. His arms snapped out to catch either side of the serpent's mouth, muscles straining. "Fungōkyaku," he grunted, and boiling vapor shot from his boots into the reptile's maw. The creature hissed in pain, and Han used the modified Eruption Kick to propel himself out of harm's way.
It jettisoned him above the white mist, where he used another expulsion of steam to turn in midair and meet the kunai of the purple-haired woman. A venom-green snake that was wrapped around her neck bared its fangs and lunged for his face. He lowered his head and felt the serpent latch onto one of the stubs protruding from his scalp.
Then he slammed his forehead into her face.
She recoiled, blood trailing from her nose. Then her head snapped forwards, face contorted in a leer, tongue swiping the blood from her upper lip. "Well, aren't you tenacious. Sen'ei Jashu!"
Snakes emerged from her sleeves and wrapped around his limbs. Steam erupted from his armor, pushing him into a midair spin. "Funjinshin!"
The angular momentum sent his opponent hurtling into the cloud of steam blanketing the forest floor. Han flexed out of the hold the serpents had on him and then propelled himself after his adversary, diving into the vapor. Shrouded in his element, he could easily sense her presence, and he rushed in the woman's direction. Blind and disoriented, she took his tackle headlong in the back, and the Gobi Jinchūriki's form crushed her against one of the training area's huge trunks, armored arms pinning her effortlessly. "Well…" she muttered into the bark, "this is a predicament." There was a note of resignation in her voice that every experienced shinobi knew.
Death.
Han took a deep breath to calm the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His baritone voice still held a measure of annoyance, but it came out steadier than he expected. "As I said, I'm here with your Hokage's permission. If that were untrue, you would be dead. Unless you think the shinobi of Iwa have lost their edge when it comes to completing missions."
A long pause; she was clearly thinking. "So…you're some sorta liaison of Iwa, eh? And what do you have to offer Konoha?"
"The nature of my business is none of yours."
Now that the altercation was over, the surrounding steam was nearly done dissipating. He was two heads taller than her, and their relative positions gave him easy vantage of her back. The collar of her overcoat was wide and open, allowing the Iwa-nin to spy a tattoo of three tomoe – equidistant from one another – ringed by squiggles inked at the juncture of her nape and shoulder. It was both different and familiar all at the same time, and he found himself growling, "What is this?"
The woman spun in his hold – apparently he'd loosened it in his surprise – a scowl marring her features. Her brown eyes were narrowed with contempt. "As you told me, none of your business."
"It bears striking resemblance to a cursed seal used by Orochimaru."
Her body went rigid at the name, breath coming out in a seething exhale. "And what would you know of that?"
Han was silent for a long moment as the woman's brown eyes bore holes through him, but her patience ran out before he decided on an answer. She scoffed with disgust and poorly disguised disinterest. "Whatever. Like Iwa has any knowledge of Orochimaru."
"You're right," he admitted, and that was enough to stop her, "which is why I would be interested in anything you could impart. You are not the only one to bear his mark."
She let out a bark of laughter. "Prove it."
"You're going to have to take my word for it," he replied, tone brooking no argument. "I don't remove my armor. Besides, do you think it's something to brag about?"
A hand came up to cover the mark on her neck, lips contorting in a grimace. "Fair point." She settled herself into a cross-legged position on the ground, flaring her overcoat in the process. "Anko," she said, and the Rock shinobi took it as an introduction. "So, what's your story? I'll buy you have a seal, but you're gonna need to give me something."
Han scrutinized her, but now that they'd apparently found common ground, the kunoichi seemed perfectly at ease. Instead of answering, he walked over and picked up his fallen kasa, his periphery focused on watching her watch him. Settling it upon his head, he rejoined her and sat himself across from her. "There isn't much to tell. I was kept in an underground location as a child and experimented on. I don't even remember receiving the mark anymore.
"By some fluke, I managed to escape. I was found by the shinobi of Iwagakure and…adopted." The venom at his treatment by the higher-ups of the Hidden Rock leaked into his baritone. This woman – Anko – didn't need to know exactly why he'd been brought into Iwa's folds. "Iwa sealed the mark, but no further investigation was done. As a condition of my visitation here, your Hokage subjected me to a medical exam, where I learned that Orochimaru is the progenitor of this mark. I have been seeking additional information ever since."
"For what?"
"To kill him," Han said, voice cold and sure. "My life was completely uprooted, and until proven otherwise, it all leads back to him. I'll have his head."
"Join the club." Anko's brown eyes seemed to glisten hungrily. "What makes you think you can?"
"I am highly motivated."
They stared at each other for a time; it felt like she was appraising him, which was amusing in a backwards sort of way, considering their comparative sizes and skills. Finally, she snorted, running a hand through her purple fringe. "Alright…eye for an eye, right?
"Orochimaru was my sensei as a Genin. He took particular interest in me because I was…special." She practically hissed the word. "That was Orochimaru…interested in mysteries and the unique. I got too close; I'll admit, I was enamored with him. Orochimaru has this…presence that's hard to ignore, even now."
"What do you mean, 'even now'?" Han interjected. "That makes it sound like you've had recent contact with him."
"He interposed himself into Konoha's recent Chūnin Exams under multiple disguises, including the Kazekage. We had a run-in." She grimaced. "It…didn't go well."
Han's fists clenched. He was here, he thought, and I missed him.
Not that he'd even known about their connection at the time, but somehow, in hindsight, it still grated.
"Eventually he gathered a bunch of kids together and gave them this." She yanked at the collar of her overcoat, briefly revealing the curse mark and then covering it up again. "The Ten no Juin, a gift he called it, for a special few. I was the only survivor, but after that, I wanted nothing to do with him. He did something to my mind – even the Yamanaka weren't able to figure out what – and left me for dead. And like you, I swore I'd kill him.
"But here's the rub – Orochimaru is always two steps ahead. He's a bastard, no arguing, but he's studied every special technique native to Konoha, and I'm sure he's had his fingers crawling around every other major village, too. Orochimaru's loyalty to the village always felt…tenuous. I suspect that if he was willing to put me through that hell 13 years ago, then he's been doing it a lot longer than that."
"Most assuredly," Han replied darkly.
Anko stared at him, and for an instant, the Iwa-nin felt like he was back under the watchful, hungry eyes of the madman who'd experimented on him as a child – a predator waiting for him to move. "You're an interesting guy." Han didn't respond to that, unsure of how to take her words, and the kunoichi continued, "I've spent all this time trying to get back at him, and the one opportunity I finally got, even when I put my life on the line, he was just playing with me the whole time. He knows everything about me, and I know next to nothing about him."
"But you know more than most, as little as that may mean. I would take any insight you'll impart."
Anko smirked at him, tongue dancing hungrily across her lips. "Well, if you put it that way, how can I refuse?"
-l-l-l-
Han could feel the eyes of the ANBU on him as he made his way back to the Senju compound. At another time, the scrutiny would have irritated him, but after a day spent in Training Area Forty-Four, trading information and blows with Anko, he felt more at ease. He still would've preferred to be left alone, but considering the circumstances – allowing a foreign Jinchūriki unsupervised access to even one part of the village – he understood. At least the Leaf shinobi were trying to be subtle; it was more than he could say for his handlers in the Hidden Rock.
November's setting sun painted his armor with splashes of gold, the nearby streetlights flickering to life as he strode along the path Jiraiya had taken him that morning. Not for the first time, he mused at the serenity the Hidden Leaf and Land of Fire emanated. The Land of Earth was quiet, especially in isolation, but his rage and hatred – and the constant oversight – had never made it a peaceful place. Here…
He wasn't sure he could ever consider it home, but it worked well as a refuge.
The courtyard was empty by the time he returned, which was normal. An absent part of his brain mused that it would behoove them to begin training in the evenings; not all combat took place in the daytime, and a good shinobi would take advantage of the darkness.
He frowned. It wasn't his responsibility to prepare the younger demon containers for the outside world, so where had that thought come from?
The foyer was bright but as empty as the courtyard. Muffled voices drew his attention to the closed door where Tsunade performed medical examinations. As he moved past it, the gravelly voice of the redheaded Suna-nin gave him pause; the boy was a devoted pupil, but not a talkative one. Even his conversations with the blond boy he was close to were fairly one-sided. They'd been training together for over two months and really only spoken of things pertaining to that.
He was, in short, an enigma.
They all were, really; the Iwa-nin hadn't bothered spending his time getting to know any of the younger Jinchūriki.
So he leaned against the wall – practiced movements forestalling the clinking of his armor – cast a wary glance for any interlopers, and listened.
"—told me that he resented me…that my…mother…named me so that her grudge against Sunagakure would be known. I was…unlovable." The boy's voice was halting, but Han couldn't discern any other change in timbre that suggested the topic meant any more than a discussion about the weather. He wondered if the sand-user was simply that unaffected or that psychologically damaged. "Then he asked me to die and blew himself up. I remember…giving myself this scar, and then…"
He trailed off. Han assumed he was making some sort of gesture.
The silence trailed for a moment, and then a second voice said, "Well, that is quite the story." Han didn't recognize the voice, but it sounded soothing and conciliatory in a way that reminded him of how the blue-clad Kiri-nin spoke; he almost felt annoyed on principle. "I'm glad you were finally able to share. It's not uncommon to experience some measure of post-traumatic stress after that kind of situation, which, given your reactions to certain words and situations, you likely have."
"I see."
"How do you feel, knowing that?"
"…Broken."
"Gaara, you should know there's nothing to be ashamed of, and there's nothing inherently wrong with you. Many shinobi – and even regular civilians – experience traumatic events and process them in different ways. You're not the first person to have PTSD and you certainly won't be the last. With the right therapy and medication, it's a manageable illness. I'm still willing to help you if you'd like."
Silence. Han was used to the redhead's methodical way of digesting and then responding to information, so the lull seemed normal. Finally, the redhead's dry monotone uttered, "I would be…grateful."
"It's no problem." If this unknown man was anything like the Kiri-nin, the Rock shinobi could almost picture the gentle smile on his face. "This subject will likely be a topic of discussion in future sessions, and I'd like to come back to it later if you're comfortable, but if I may ask, did something happen recently? We've been doing these sessions for some time now, and this is the first time we've been able to discuss anything related to your family."
"…I had a conversation with…Shukaku—"
"The Ichibi."
A moment of quiet; Han imagined the younger boy nodding. "We spoke of how we have each been wronged, and each other's part in that. And then we came to an agreement."
"When we started, the way you described your relationship before sounded symbiotic, or perhaps codependent, albeit toxic, so it sounds like you've made progress in establishing something healthier. I'm afraid to say that I'm only familiar with…Shukaku…by reputation, so you'll have to excuse any, ah, potential faux pauxs on my end as we discuss this. In general, though, I'd say that's a good thing. What kind of agreement did you come to?"
"We would start over. Shukaku would allow me access to his abilities and stop trying to exert influence over my mind, and I would not have the Gogyō Fūin reapplied. In the course of our conversation, we spoke of the other Bijū – Shukaku's siblings. There are those he is cordial with – Saiken and…ah, Kokuō – and those he…resents. His perspective is…not dissimilar to my own, but aged. I wish to learn, and with knowledge and experience, there is room for growth.
"I believe…opportunity should be afforded for amends. If others are willing to forgive my transgressions, it would be hypocritical of me to not do the same."
"That is…a level of generosity you would not have afforded anyone when I did my original assessment of you. You should be proud of your growth thus far, Gaara. It's proof this is working. Do you feel any different?"
"I have noticed…changes."
"Good. You should recognize the work you've put in. Now, about what your uncle said—"
The second man's voice was drowned out by the sound of rattling from the Iwa-nin's armor. Han stepped away from the wall and reached into his gi, pulling out the river rock inscribed with the Gobi's number of tails. The single symbol was awash with color and heat, a violent call to arms. He scowled at the recurring reminder that he was basically the Tsuchikage's property.
"Yer gittin' th' call, too, eh?"
Rōshi was walking toward him, his own shaking stone loosely grasped in his hand. Han snorted, fingers clenching a little tighter. "It's not the first time."
"Aye, an' it won't be th' last."
Another scowl. "Maybe it should be," he muttered.
"Hm?"
"Maybe it should be," he repeated, louder and intentional. It had first slipped out of his mouth without thought, a product of too many years of frustrated obedience, but now, with several months of stark contrast to his life in the Land of Earth, it was readily apparent that things could be different. His only ties to Iwa were the Tsuchikage's stubbornness and the damn river rock.
He turned on the spot and stalked towards the compound entrance. "Hey," Rōshi called, "what d'yeh think yer doin'?"
"I'm going to give that senile windbag his calling card back."
The redhead's hurried footsteps echoed on the tiles behind him. "An' yeh think that'll go well, d'yeh?"
Han whirled around to glare at the shorter man, rage towering like his height. "I don't give a damn. That bastard may be the Tsuchikage, but he's long past his prime, and I'm a Jinchūriki. I've given Ōnoki twenty years of service and received nothing in return. I have my own life and my own goal, and I will not be subject to the whimsy of a demented old fool any longer!"
Rōshi stared at him as he breathed heavily through his anger. The redhead was silent for a long time, waiting until the armor-clad shinobi was calm enough to hear what he would say. "Yer gonna git yerself killed underestimatin' Ōnoki an' th' power o' Jinton. C'mon." He walked past Han, making for the exit. "Us two got a better chance t'gether."
"You're…going to accompany me? Stand up to him?"
"Yeh sound so surprised." Rōshi's voice was wry. "Yeh don' think I'd support yeh after yeh've trusted me through all this"—he gestured around them—"insanity?"
"I have never considered your motives pure."
Rōshi flashed his own river rock, hot and vibrating. "Aye, it helps me, too. But yeh ain't wrong. Ignorin' it don' make it go 'way."
"Ain't that the truth." Jiraiya melded out of the shadows, arms crossed over his broad chest and a smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. "It's so nice to see you two getting along. And to think there was such hostility during our first meeting." He glanced at Han, smile growing broader with his amusement. "Look at how far you've come!"
"Yeh've got nothin' better ter do than stalk th' hallways, Jiraiya?"
"The reward for patience is sometimes getting to see Tsunade walk around in something a little more revealing, so yeah, a worthwhile venture," he said with a wink. Soberly, he continued, "I heard your little conversation. Good for you, standing up for yourselves. And while I approve of your spirit, it would be beyond even my level of irresponsibility to let you leave here unencumbered."
"Is it your intention to stop us?" Han's voice teetered on hostility, carrying the edge of a threat. It wouldn't be an easy fight, but he was prepared to go toe-to-toe with the Tsuchikage; one of the Sannin wasn't so dissimilar, even in the midst of other Leaf shinobi.
Jiraiya's booming laugh slackened the tension in the armored ninja's shoulders. "Hardly! And before you ask, no, I'm not interested in accompanying you. I don't think I'd be overly welcome trotting into Iwa, with or without your escort. No, I'm just here to provide a little insurance.
"See, I like you guys. Really. And I appreciate what you've done for Naruto, and even the other kids. But Tsunade…" he shrugged. "Well, it's kinda her job to be cautious, especially with foreign shinobi. She's afforded you guys a lot of latitude, and in fairness, you've done a good job of playing by the rules, but going back to your village with any inside knowledge of Konoha is just a step too far, especially considering our history. So, as a precautionary measure, I'm going to have to insist on placing a seal on you."
"What kind of seal?" Han growled.
"Basically, if you try to recall and disperse any sort of information about Konoha – infrastructure, shinobi, etc. – you'll find yourself frozen. No movement, no speech, nothing until the thought goes away."
"You're talking about a seal that can predict intentions and thoughts."
"I'll take your incredulity as a measure of how impressed you are by me." Jiraiya grinned, basking in his work. "It took a lot of time and coordination with the Yamanaka clan and…some less reputable folks, but for the sake of Konoha's defense and maintaining my spy network, sometimes you have to bend the rules a little. And yeah, I know, you're not big on seals, but when you decide to come back, I'll be happy to remove it."
"You're anticipating our return? Accept it?"
Jiraiya shrugged. "Like I said, you've been pretty good about playing by the rules, which is more than anyone expected, and you haven't really given us any heartache, so yeah, why not? Akatsuki's still out there, and the kids have plenty more to learn." He cocked his head to the side. "Maybe you could pick up something, too, if you're open to it."
Han shot a glance at Rōshi, curious to see if the redhead had any opposition to the Sannin's proposal. The older Jinchūriki simply arched an eyebrow, as if to ask 'do you think there's a better offer?'
I suppose not. Tone gruff, he conceded, "Very well. What do you need of us?"
"Access to your forehead."
The giant shinobi untied his hitae-ate, stepping forward so Jiraiya could sweep the wet thistles of a brush across his forehead. There were a few quick swishes, and then the Sannin stepped back and said, "Fūin," the ink seeping through his skin and seeming to tattoo itself on his brain.
As Jiraiya stepped towards Rōshi to apply the same seal, Han flexed his fingers and raised a leg as if to confirm that the older man's fūinjutsu hadn't impacted any of his normal functions. By the time he'd performed a few more simple movements and satisfied his skepticism, Jiraiya had finished with Rōshi and taken a step away from them. "Well, I wish you luck on your journey," offered the white-haired man. "You're gonna need it."
-l-l-l-
The one good thing about Rōshi as a traveling companion was that he didn't feel the need to fill the quiet between them with conversation. Likely that was a result of the decades he'd spent in isolation – for which Han still harbored a (dwindling) grudge – but at least the weeklong journey was going to be made in silence, and not an uncomfortable one.
Unfortunately, that also left him with a lot of time to think.
Two decades of growing up in and around the Hidden Rock, and the armored shinobi had never found himself introspective. He'd been given a home only to be raised as a weapon, pointed in the direction of the enemy, and then unleashed upon them. And even when he'd been given a sliver of free reign, the solitude – or facsimile of it – had never inclined him to ruminate on his life. He'd always just wanted to punch something, lash out at anyone interfering with his bid for vengeance or freedom (or both).
And now he had a target for his rage – Orochimaru – as well as a burgeoning, accidental mentorship to multiple younger Jinchūriki, which he was…surprisingly okay with?
They were…fascinating, clinically speaking. Personal experience had taught him that the Jinchūriki were all weird – broken, really – in their own way, and he was no exception, which made it all the stranger that they seemed to be…improving. Trying, really, to better themselves in a world that didn't give two shits about them.
"The boy…"
"Hm?" Rōshi looked up from poking at the fire with a stick, hunched over the flames from his seated position on a rock. It was their third night on the road, and their communications until now had mostly been perfunctory. "Yeh've gotta be more specific."
Han watched the firelight dance within his companion's coal-colored eyes. He silently conceded that the older man had a point; they knew multiple 'boys', and he hadn't provided any context to his utterance. In fact, he hadn't even registered saying anything until Rōshi's response. "The Suna-nin."
"Aye, an'?"
"…What is his intention?"
Rōshi raised an eyebrow. "Who knows? Yeh don' ask how th' crazy think."
"Don't pretend you don't have some inkling as to his thoughts. You've got all the subtlety of your father."
"Learn from th' best, they say," came the sarcastic response. "But aye, I've talked with 'im. Jus' a bit. He's lost an' lookin' fer purpose."
"You say that like that doesn't describe a large swath of the population."
"Yeh want somethin' more specific?"
"He was embroiled in conversation with another, speaking on a seemingly personal subject matter. I suspect it's been going on for some time, and I'm curious what his goal is."
The eyebrow rose again, this time accompanied by a scoff. "What, yeh think he's engaged in a…a su'terfuge? He ain't got that kinda foresight."
"Agreed. No, I'm just interested. These children have shown themselves…naïve. They fight for concepts that are incomprehensible." Rōshi was nodding to his words, lips drawn in a smirk. "I would like to know what they are angling towards."
"They ain't seen war," the redhead answered with solemn assuredness. "Sure, some o' 'em been raised same as us, but none served. That changes yeh."
The armored shinobi grunted. "Fair enough."
"'Sides," Rōshi added, gruff voice full of its usual swagger, "ain't like yeh've got goals, so what's his matter?" Another grunt, and the lava-user leaned towards the flames, interest piqued. "Yeh do, eh?" He gave a rustic laugh, sounding – for the first time the giant had ever heard – genuinely amused. "Well, let's hear it."
"It's no business of yours."
Rōshi straightened his back, eyeing the armored giant speculatively. "Han, yeh know I ain't yer enemy, aye? I ain't one fer Utakata's soft approach ter…life"—he gestured broadly with his arms, apparently unable to find the appropriate words to describe the Kiri-nin—"but I tol' yeh, I'm tryin' ter do right by yeh. I'm goin' with yeh ter give th' ol' man what fer, ain't I?"
"Trust is immaterial," Han replied, deep voice stiff but without the hostility that would have tainted it historically. "I do not need or want your involvement."
"Yet yeh wanna know what drives Gaara."
"Hmph." Han crossed his arms over his chest. "Fair point."
Silence followed his concession, only the crackling flames offering the pair a sense of camaraderie. It was weird that even Rōshi – old, stubborn, unyielding – seemed to be able to learn and grow, a feat Han never would have thought possible. He wasn't kinder or gentler, necessarily, but he was more willing to listen, to work with others after decades of being his own man. It flew in the face of everything the Five-Tails' Jinchūriki had ever known or assumed about the Tsuchikage's son.
Konoha, and the younger Jinchūriki, had a presence that inspired something Iwa clearly didn't. Han wondered if he was undergoing his own metamorphosis, subtle and unseen, resulting from their daily interactions.
The thought was…unsettling.
"If yer curious, yeh can jus' ask 'im," Rōshi suggested. "Th' kids're all open books. Naïve, aye?"
Han only gave a hum in response, and the two Iwa-nin allowed the night to swallow their conversation.
-l-l-l-
They reached the Land of Earth after another day and a half of travel, the thick forests having gradually thinned to tall savannahs as they entered the Land of Grass and then emptying to sparse, hardy vegetation that dappled a landscape of rugged brown. Han scowled beneath his mask as they crossed the border, and Rōshi – perhaps sensing his companion's sudden irritation – commented, "Yeh ferget how depressin' this place is."
"They really did find the worst place to settle."
"Better than Suna."
Han paused at that, gave it a moment's thought, and then shrugged. "I suppose so."
With that agreement, the two continued northwest toward the Hidden Rock Village, their usual quiet their only companion. Han found himself a little surprised that Rōshi wasn't trying to pry further into his business. Suspicious by nature, the older man tended to fixate on things like a dog worrying a bone. That he was willing to let the armored shinobi keep his secret and not pick at it was just further evidence of his previous observation that Rōshi was different…that he was capable of change.
He let out an amused huff that was lost amidst the shifting pieces of his armor. After the life he'd lived, it was novel to find he could still be surprised.
Han rolled his neck on his shoulders to ease a pulse of discomfort. Rōshi noticed the gesture and grunted, sounding bemused in his wry manner: "Gettin' ol'?"
"Like you're one to talk," retorted the giant. "I don't see you traversing several hundred kilometers in armor."
"Some o' us don' need a crutch."
The hand not tucked into his gi came up to rub at his shoulder blades, trying to ease the muscles through his armor. "Or aren't so rockheaded as to not accept augmentation."
"Eh? If that's yer way o' sayin' yeh need help, then jus' say that. No need ter sound fancy. 'Sides, yeh think yeh'd be used ter th' weight after all this time."
"I am," Han groused, irritated at the throbbing at his neck. It was now a pulsing ache that slowed their casual run to a halt, Rōshi shooting him an expression that the Gobi Jinchūriki might have interpreted as concern coming from someone else. The throb built to a shooting pain, and Han sank to his knees, growling through gritted teeth, "What…is…happening?"
"Ku ku ku…what an interesting development."
The giant shinobi felt a shudder run down his spine. "That…laugh…" He tilted his head up, just enough to glare across the expanse at the source of the voice.
From the ground ahead emerged a pale-skinned, androgynous figure with shoulder-length black hair and aristocratic features. The figure was of average height – shorter than Jiraiya, by the Iwa-nin's guess – though the lanky frame and form-fitting clothes gave the other shinobi the illusion of height. Dressed in a cream-colored cheongsam-looking garb over a long-sleeved olive shirt and loose, gray pants – accented by a garish purple rope serving as a belt – the interloper had the appearance of a woman, but the continuous amused chuckling had a raspy, masculine timbre.
Behind him, Rōshi made a noise of surprise. "Yer…Orochimaru. Yeh haven't aged a day."
"Yōton no Rōshi, we meet again," sibilated the Sannin, sounding bemused. "The same could be said of you."
"You…" Han snarled, and the venom in his voice was nearly tangible. Setting his fists on the ground and using them to prop himself up, the Iwa-nin glared at the renegade Leaf shinobi with brown eyes narrowed to slits. "I will kill you."
"Hm hm hm." Orochimaru's laughter was quiet, but for all the space between him and the two Rock shinobi, it echoed like a shot, persistently mocking. "You're not the first to threaten that…isn't that right, Rōshi? And yet, here I stand."
His voice was a whisper, each word a gentle caress, but framed with a sort of mocking contempt. It contrasted the clinical detachment and scientific intrigue that haunted the few broken memories of his captivity, but that laugh…
Orochimaru's laugh was unforgettable.
"I know of your renown, Jōki no Jinchūriki," the Sannin continued casually, "and would have considered it fortuitous to never make formal introductions, but judging by my mark, we've had the pleasure. Isn't it amusing how circumstance makes fools of us all? And here I'd thought all my experiments were dead or accounted for."
"Th' hell're yeh talkin' 'bout?"
"Ah, you've not told him?" Orochimaru laughed again. "But then, what would a country bumpkin, even one as strong as Yōton no Rōshi, understand, hm?"
From his periphery, Han caught the older Jinchūriki take a step forward, hands clenched into fists. "Rōshi," he growled, and the man's movement halted. "Leave it. He's mine."
"Oh? That would be interesting to see."
"Release me from your…thrall, and I'd be happy to show you."
"Cursed seals are such intriguing creations," Orochimaru mused, seeming to ignore Han's guttural request. "Even counter-seals can be imperfect when the initial seal is not fully understood. They may succeed at repressing the chakra-sensitive portions, but when there's a biological component…well, that would require dissecting the invasive DNA with a skill only a few iryo-nin possess. An arduous process to be sure, but well worth the hundreds of lives to create and perfect." He spread his arms out to his side, palms open as if revealing a particularly impressive sleight of hand. "And even then, to introduce and utilize a biological component requires some measure of compatibility between host and donor. In some ways, it's not dissimilar to the pets you both keep inside. To think one of my creations would ascend to one of Iwa's prized Jinchūriki…" he laughed again.
The Gobi's chakra was surging through his body, and Han allowed it to suffuse his limbs with strength, the irukauma's shroud coating his form in a bubbling orange miasma. The radiating pain – and control – from the Sannin's seal ebbed, and he thundered forward in a Body Flicker that left only a wisp of steam behind.
Vapor billowed out of the armor covering his right arm as his fist slammed into Orochimaru's cackling maw with enough force to snap his neck backwards and send the pale man soaring several hundred feet away.
That felt good.
For a long moment, the Gobi Jinchūriki stood still and stared into the distance, relishing in his victory. Quick as it had been, he was almost disappointed his decades of hatred had only boiled out to this.
Then, from afar, he could see something clamber to its feet, neck long and floppy like a worm before retracting to a normal human form. "What the hell?" he muttered, brown eyes narrowed as the other man approached at a steady pace. His Eruption Fist – especially charged with the Gobi's chakra – had literally knocked heads from shoulders, yet Orochimaru seemed virtually unharmed.
"He's a Sannin, yeh daft moron!" Rōshi yelled. "Yeh think he jus' got that title willy-nilly?"
Han turned his scowl upon his fellow Rock shinobi and again warned him, "Don't interfere, Rōshi. This is my business." He received a grumble and a careless toss of the hand in return, and when he turned back to the rogue Konoha-nin, Orochimaru once more stood only 30 feet from him; his jaw appeared displaced, awkwardly open and angled in a way that Han would have definitively identified as broken until, with a sharp crack, the Sannin pushed it back into place. "You're a confident man to return for more."
"Ku ku ku, I admit, I underestimated the power of a Jinchūriki. It's been so long since I fought one, you see, and I've had decades to evolve. Still…in the interest of a proper test, I propose an accord. Keep your beast under control, and I'll refrain from further manipulation of the seal."
"Deal," Han growled, charging toward the pale man in a burst of speed. He threw another fist at his adversary's face, but the Sannin's neck stretched impossibly long, and his punch transited through empty space. His momentum carried him into the Sannin's noodle-like form, lanky body wrapping around the Jinchūriki's giant frame and constricting like an anaconda. Steam whistled from his armor, and Orochimaru recoiled with a loud hiss, skin cherry-red.
Han spun like a dervish, steam-enhanced foot slamming into the Sannin's left arm and sending the nukenin bouncing across the Land of Earth. He charged after his quarry, taking a vapor-propelled leap into the air and crushing an armored foot into the man's sternum. Orochimaru coughed blood, left arm bent at an awkward angle, and stared at the giant hovering over him with golden, reptilian eyes. "You…" he rasped, seemingly unable to come up with anything further. His mouth remained open in a gape.
Then a set of long, pale fingers emerged, stretching the jaw so wide it no longer bore any human resemblance, and Han was surprised enough that he barely got his arm up in time to deflect the blade stabbing at his face. He jumped back as the snake holding the sword's pommel retracted back to the fallen Orochimaru's mouth, where a new version of the Sannin was emerging, saliva dripping off his body in rivers. The Leaf nukenin appeared whole and unmarred from their altercation, and he chuckled, shrugging carelessly. "It was a good effort."
Every syllable dripped with bemusement and mockery. Fueled by growing rage, steam billowed from Han's armor, and the giant once more closed the distance between himself and the Snake Sannin, but the brandished sword forced him on a divergent path, deeper into his smokescreen.
Wind blustered past him, dispersing the billowing vapors and nearly knocking him off-balance with its force. Suddenly exposed, he found Orochimaru's weapon shooting towards him – literally elongating in a way that seemed to defy reality, even in their world – to pierce his chest. He bellowed when it slid through his armor as if it wasn't even there, brown eyes narrowing with rage and determination. Gloved hands rose to hold the blade between his palms; he rapidly heated the metal with fire chakra, cooled it with water chakra, and then snapped it with minimal effort in a shower of metal fragments. What remained of the sword returned to the Sannin, who chuckled. "So, the lost Terumī child is full of surprises."
"The lost…" Han repeated, brow furrowed. "You know who I am?" he demanded.
Orochimaru's laugh was as disturbing as ever, but it seemed even more sinister this time. "You are the Jinchūriki of the Gobi, the unofficial child of the most senile Kage the world has known – my old sensei included – and one of the most powerful tools at Iwagakure's disposal. What more is there to know?"
"How about who I was before all that?" the giant snarled.
The Snake Sannin's shrug was careless. "It matters not."
"It does to me."
"Ku ku ku…poor child with no past and no memory. You were my ideal target, the errant and dispossessed. The weak," he mocked, "of the strong. Kirigakure was always rife with potential: the Yuki, the Hōzuki, the Ganryū, the Terumī"—he licked his lips, almost salivating—"the Kaguya. At its height, Kirigakure's diversity rivaled that of Konohagakure.
"And when a starving man is presented with a buffet, do you expect him to ignore it?" He chortled as Han continued to clench and unclench his fists; the temperature around them seemed like it was increasing steadily. "The opportunity to study how these clans' kekkei genkai functioned – to learn about Yōton, Futton, Hyōton, Suika no Jutsu, Shikotsumyaku – no one would crucify me for my endeavors."
"Just your methods," Han retorted, seething.
"There was no one to miss those I took for my research." Golden eyes glinted with implication. "And you're the first with the opportunity to settle the score. I'd say my methods are…unquestionable."
"You're grotesque," Han spat. "To call you human would be an indictment to mankind, and I'm barely human myself."
"Your words carry more heat than your jutsu," Orochimaru smirked, bemused. "But come, lost child of the Terumī…show me if you can avenge yourself, if not mankind."
"Gladly," he growled, fist lighting with flames. With a casual gesture, he pointed the limb at the Sannin and muttered, "Katon: Hiken." Fire shot out towards the nukenin, who easily dodged and then proceeded to slither – serpentine – through the bombardment that continued in his direction.
Orochimaru closed the distance between them with impressive speed, rising off his trunk and rasping, "Sen'ei Tajashu!" Snakes burst from his sleeves, a writhing nest of brown scales and slit eyes that wound around the Iwa-nin and began constricting.
"This jutsu is a nuisance," Han snarled, superheated steam whistling from his armor and broiling the serpents to a crisp.
Orochimaru retreated far enough to evade the wash of hot vapor, dipping close to the ground and whispering, "Mandara no Jin." Hundreds of snakes slithered from his open maw and surged towards the Five-Tails' Jinchūriki; dozens rose up and brandished swords at him from their mouths. The Sannin flipped through hand seals, bit his thumb, and slapped his palms to the ground with a hoarse, "Kuchiyose no Jutsu."
There was a puff of smoke behind the giant shinobi that announced the arrival of a snake hundreds of feet long, jet black and sitting on its coils. It bared fangs a couple dozen feet long, forked tongue tasting the air, and snapped forward to swallow the Iwa-nin. Steam shot from the furnace on his back and propelled him towards the massive serpent. "Fungōkyaku!"
His armored foot slammed into the reptile's belly as the creature's head impacted the earth where he'd been standing, and its lengthy body nearly folded in half from the blow. Han landed and grabbed the snake's tail, muscles bulging as vapor blasted from his armor in streams of white smoke. With his Unrivaled Strength and a mighty grunt, he heaved the creature off the ground, spun in a half-circle, and launched it at its summoner.
Orochimaru held up two fingers and dismissed the creature mid-flight, lips twisted in a contemptuous smirk. Han flipped through seals and barked, "Suiton: Kanketsusen no Jutsu!"
Boiling water burst from the ground, creating a flood that washed away the Leaf nukenin's Formation of Ten Thousand Snakes technique and forcing him to create a divide in the earth that swallowed the deluge. The ground at Han's feet turned into spikes that rose to skewer him; Han twined his fingers together and swung his clasped fists in a hammerblow that shattered the approaching rock. The ground beneath him opened to a 20-foot-diameter pit, and the Iwa-nin plummeted into a hole filled with hissing snakes. Several were crushed underfoot, but the rest swarmed him, uselessly sinking fangs into his armor; another burst of steam, and they were fricasseed. Han leaped from the pit and scowled at where the Sannin was standing, only to find the pale man nowhere around.
A quick glance at his surroundings revealed nothing, but then Orochimaru burst from his hiding place in the earth with the remains of his sword aimed at the giant's throat. The Jinchūriki blocked with his left arm, the jagged blade sliding through his armor and drawing blood. Orochimaru leered at him, open-mouthed with the blade's pommel in his tongue, and Han used his right hand to grab the nukenin's extended tongue and rip it from his throat.
Orochimaru recoiled, blood spewing from his mouth and golden eyes wide with shock, gurgling on the red fluid. The Iwa-nin gave chase, reaching for the man's head and missing when the Sannin dodged. His steam propelled him into a roundhouse kick that connected with the snake-user's flexible torso and sent him skidding over the ground. A labored breath rattled through his mask, turning seething as the pale man stood from where he landed, whole and unharmed once more. "Ku ku ku, we appear to be at an impasse," Orochimaru called across the expanse.
Han charged with a roar, but the Sannin slapped his hands to the ground and summoned an enormous metal gate with a demonic visage that the Jinchūriki's fist slammed into. It deformed under the blow, and Han tilted his gaze up, where his enemy stood over 100 feet above him. Hate burned in his pupil-less brown eyes. "Come down and fight me!"
"Hm hm, I think not. You're nearly impervious to what I've thrown at you, and your attempts to brutalize me have proven…ineffective in the long-term. And while I am intrigued at the possibility of continuing to test your growth, now is not the time or place."
"You're not dead," Han snarled. "This fight is not done."
"An interesting hypothesis, but no. My business here has finished, and so this…intermission, shall we say…is complete. However, I have enjoyed our little…contest, so allow me to impart some wisdom to you."
"Not interested!"
"Ah, I assure you, you will be." Orochimaru's voice was a silky hiss, bemused and arrogant in equal measure. "For you see, the predator never expects to become the prey. And that is what you are: Jōki no Jinchūriki, top of the food chain, an apex shinobi, virtually peerless. But there are those that can challenge you"—he gestured to himself—"and a number of them have banded together to hunt you down. Perhaps you've even heard of them, if the old Fence-Sitter ever deigned to share. Akatsuki." The name was a whispered caress, Orochimaru's tongue flicking out to lick his lips. "And their leader is a man calling himself Pein, who has made his base of operations Amegakure."
"How d'yeh know that?"
Han flinched at Rōshi's sudden question, having forgotten his companion's presence. Orochimaru's watchful eyes turned in the Yonbi Jinchūriki's direction. "Because…knowledge is power. Until we meet again." Then he vanished, disappearing into thin air like a mirage.
The steam-user bellowed, slamming his fists repeatedly into the demonic-looking gate to vent his fury. Each punch dented the metal, the barrier sagging under its own weight with an audible screech. With one last roar, he smashed a hole through the gate's open-mouthed grin, spreading fractures throughout the rest of the structure, which collapsed around him.
When the rubble finished falling, Rōshi plodded up to him through the smoke, hands tucked into his purple clothes and red eyebrow arched with aristocratic skepticism. "Are yeh done?"
Through his panting, Han shot the redhead a scathing look with no actual heat. "There's nothing left."
"Aye, yeh can say that again. He cleared ev'rythin' out."
"…What are you talking about?"
"There's a hideout"—he stomped his foot on the ground twice—"all over th' place. Th' tunnels go ev'rywhere. Shinobi scurryin' 'round like ants while yeh fought." Rōshi shot him a scrutinizing look. "So…d'yeh wanna talk 'bout it?" When silence was his only response, the lava-user threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. "Yeh picked a fight with one o' th' strongest nukenin still alive, yeh don' think I've got questions?"
"Rōshi!" Han snapped, worked up and with only a single source to vent his frustration. He breathed deeply when his ire didn't have the desired effect, the older male's impassive stare seeming to bore holes through him. "I…appreciate your concern," he finally allowed when he'd calmed enough, each word uttered with calculated rigidity, "and willingness to accede to staying out of it, so if you could continue to do so…" He allowed the sentence to trail off, either too annoyed to continue or unwilling to admit further gratitude for the older man's compliance.
Rōshi considered his junior for a moment before deciding the giant shinobi had been pushed far enough for one day. "…Fine," he acquiesced. "Are yeh good ter continue?"
"Cauterized the wounds," Han grunted. "It'll hold up until we get back to—" and then he froze. After several seconds, he regained movement, muttering, "Stupid seal," under his breath.
And then he started walking south.
"Wait, where're yeh goin'? How 'bout tellin' off th' ol' man?"
"Less important than the information we got from this bastard. We got the base of operations of the enemy threatening our lives from an unreliable source. We need to tell"—another bout of momentary quiet, followed by a frustrated growl—"we need to return."
Rōshi watched the taller shinobi's back for a long moment. Then he smirked to himself and jogged to catch up, falling in step beside the giant to return to the Land of Fire in a companionable silence.
-l-l-l-
Author's Note: Not much to say here. Thanks to anyone who reviewed the previous chapter; got caught up in life and don't think I responded to people individually. Jiraiya's seal is a combination of studying Yamanaka techniques with Danzō's ROOT seal.
The Kiri clans mentioned by Orochimaru are all canon (or "canon" considering filler) with the exception of the Ganryū, which is roughly intended to translate as "lava dragon". Mei is therefore a result of a father Terumī and mother Ganryū, hence both Lava and Boil Release (and no, Han and Mei are not directly related).